Lessons
by Alilacia
Summary: Aragorn has his first encounter with orcs and rangers. And learns some harsh realities about just how dangerous this world can be if you are not properly prepared for it. Aragorn has been given many things in his life: friends, family and a home.


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Lessons

By: Alilacia

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: 

Spoilers: None that I can think of.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Lord of the Rings, or anything to do with the film or books. That honour goes to Peter Jackson (et all) and J.R.R Tolkien. I have no permission what so ever to use these characters, will not receive any money for this, and am doing this for my own enjoyment. And to get away from doing my college assignments

All the characters belong to J.R.R Tolkien, and only Olantien and Nebridë actually belong to me. But if anyone wishes to use them, all you need to do is ask.

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Series:

Mortality

Lessons

Summary:

Aragorn has his first encounter with orcs and rangers. And learns some harsh realities about just how dangerous this world can be if you are not properly prepared for it. Aragorn has been given many things in his life: friends, family and a home. And the most recent of which being his elvish name.

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Mae govannen!

This is the second instalment in The Lennath Series. According to the site I found on the internet 'Lennath' is apparently journey's in Sindarin. I apologise if it isn't, my elvish skills are not the best in the world.

So in English it is basically 'The Journey's Series'. I decided to call it The Journey's Series, because that is basically what all the stories are about: Legolas' and Aragorn's journey's though life, and the paths it takes them on. Or it will be later, because this story focuses on Aragorn and his elven family.

This is the first and only chapter of Lessons, and I hope you all enjoy it.

This is a story about Aragorn getting his elvish name, deals with the cementing of the relationship he has with his elven family, and looks at Aragorn's first encounter with the orcs.

Well, that's about it. Don't want to bore you.

Oh yeah, I'd really recommend reading 'The Mellon Chronicles' by Cassia and Siobhan. The stories are so brilliant on that site it's almost unbelievable.

I have not read the Silmarillion, or any of the other history/information books published regarding the Lord of the Rings. So I apologise if there are any mistakes in these stories. Feel free to let me know if there are. I am learning new things each day, and I owe quite a few people major thanks for some of that information.

This story isn't actually beta'd (in fact none of them have been so far) so there are probably quite a few mistakes in them.

The preview for the next story 'Wandering' is at the end of this story.

Namárië nin mellyn

Alilacia

Lessons

A loud crash interrupted the half-elven lord from his readings. Various maps were placed haphazardly around him, more than one was yellow around the edges; worn down by the passing of time.

Yes, many of the tomes and maps here were older than Elrond, having been housed here by his father and grandfathers before him. Now their care was entrusted to him, and the knowledge they contained was sure to be needed by the races of Middle Earth.

Another crash and a muffled shout made the elven lord pause again, and sigh as he placed the worn map gently to the ground.

The season was spring, and bird song was heard each morn as the sun rose above the horizon. Each morning elves would frequent the gardens and claim solace amidst the trees and flowers. But none more so than the newest edition to this house, a young edain boy called Aragorn.

As the child matured each year, Elrond took it upon himself to teach the child about the people that he resided with. Starting with the language of his people. Elrond was pleased to learn that the child was an apt-pupil, and picked up the basics of the grey tongue in no time at all. While some of the pronunciation was off; his sense of tone and rhythm was perfect, and Elrond was considering teaching him westron soon.

The child's studies were not limited to languages, and Elladan had taken the child aside one day and started to teach him how to use a bow and arrow. Elladan still felt deeply affected by the sight that he and his twin brother had come across that day, and had promised himself that nothing like that would ever happen to the young child he called his brother.

Now this child had grown much since his time here, and had himself seen 15 summers. His soul was very much at peace here, but in his heart he longed to travel and see all of Middle-earth. Elladan had, of course, forbidden it, informing Aragorn that there was no way he would ever be allowed out of Rivendell on his own. And seeing as Elladan would not take him himself, left Aragorn little choice but to stay here. Until he decided to tred quietly out of the doors on his own anyway.

Much effort had been made by the two elven twins to instruct their little brother to protect himself, and they still found themselves impressed by the rate at which the human picked up what he was being told.

Elrohir was, at that moment, trying to teach Aragorn how to use a sword. However, Elrohir himself rarely used any weapon other than his bow, and so to teach someone how to use a sword was a new endeavour for him as well.

As it was, Aragorn had picked it up quickly, but he still had a lot to work out with his stances and his balance.

Elrond rose from his place on the floor and walked down the brightly lit hallway. Elrohir often took Aragorn into the clearing just off the entrance to his house, and they trained there.

He quietly opened the door to his house, and stepped out into the cooling spring air. The sound of rushing water was louder here, but not loud enough to mask the sounds of metal scraping against metal. And the sound of the crash had been Aragorn not stepping into his stance properly and his sword breaking one of the lanterns that hung from the lower branches of the trees.

Elrond shook his head and moved back into the house. There wasn't much he could do, the ornate lantern was already in pieces. So long as Aragorn didn't get injured, the elven lord was content.

"Good!"

The singing of metal was punctuated by laboured breathing as the raven haired elf deflected the attacking move of the human in front of him. Sweat was beading along the young human's forehead, and Elrohir knew that he would have to stop soon. "That's all for now."

Weary eyes stared at him, and a frown started to form over his face. The lesson couldn't be over yet.

"But..."

Elrohir held up a hand to still Aragorn's protests with a gentle smile on his face. "You are weary little brother, and do not try to deny it. Young human, there is only so much you can take right now, and long training sessions is not one of them. Why father would have my head if I let you fight while weary and you were injured by accident."

The frown hadn't left the young human's face but he slowly nodded. He had wanted to keep on training, but the aching of his muscles firmly protested that idea. He was feeling tired, but his thirst for knowledge drove him to keep on fighting.

He lowered his hand and un-tensed his muscles. The sword slipped out of weary fingers, and he grasped it again. Switching his grip, he handed the finely made sword to Elrohir who gripped it firmly in his left hand.

"I eagerly await my next lesson brother." a small grin finally spread over the young human's features as he allowed himself to relax. During his training he focussed on his opponant and nothing more. His muscles didn't relax for an instant, and his senses were constantly monitoring every little action, every movement shown during the mock fight.

His senses, while sharper than most human's but not as sharp as the elves, were growing each day, and very little escaped his notice now. The art of stealth had also been taught to the teen, and Elladan was planning on taking the teenage human out into the woods and testing his newly learnt skills there.

Elrohir shook his head ruely as they walked into the last homely house. Elladan had become just as fond of the human child as all the elves here, and was determined to protect the boy, and was teaching Aragorn each and every technique that would aid him later in life.

It pained Elrohir to think of what the future might hold for Aragorn, and he only hoped that Aragorn would be ready for whatever might cross the path that he walked. Orcs, like the ones that killed his mother and father, still roamed the lands, and Elrohir feared that Aragorn would come face to face with them one day. And be alone.

Elrohir was no stranger to the brutality, the oft methodical cruelty, that the orcs possessed. His own mother, the fair Celebrian, had been tainted by her encounter with the orcs; and had long left these shores. There was not a day that went by that he mourned her passing, but knew that eventually they would be reunited in the Undying Lands. Until that day came, he would do all he could to protect Middle Earth and the people that lived there.

And that included the human by his side.

The events that lead to Aragorn's arrival had not left Elrohir's mind, and he constantly wished that he had been able to get there sooner. The loss of a parent lingered at the back of his mind, and he would not wish it on anyone, particularly not one so young. So... innocent.

The evening was drawing to a close and so he led Aragorn to his bed chambers. He helped the sleepy child onto the bed and pulled the covers gently around Aragorn's thin form. Aragorn closed his eyes and sighed, his arms grasping the comforter and pulling it closely around his body.

A soft kiss was brushed across the sleeping child's forehead and Elrohir shut the door with a soft click. Aragorn had brought many things to Imladris, and no-one was ever going to spurn the child. He had wormed his way into the heart of each elf he had met, and none would ever harm him.

The dew-rich air floated in through the window, catching the light fabric as it passed. Sunlight streamed in through the window, and cast its warm rays over the gently slumbering figure in the bed.

The play of light over his closed eyelids drew Aragorn out of his light sleep. His hand came up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Weary silver eyes drifted around the room before stopping to stare out the window.

Light feet moved almost silently over the floor and Aragorn's hands came to rest on the window.

Several elves that Aragorn didn't know were conversing lightly in the grey tongue as they walked softly through the courtyard.

A knock on the door brought Aragorn out of his watch over the courtyard, and he turned to see Elladan standing in the doorway. He was smiling and holding up one of the Rivendell bows and Aragorn's quiver. Aragorn felt an answering smile spread over his face, and he took the quiver from his brothers hands.

"I'm taking you out into the woods today Aragorn. There I shall examine how much you've learnt over the years, and test if you can put what you have learnt into practice."

Aragorn felt a rush of joy rush over him, but also a small amount of uncertainty.

He had been waiting so long for his older brother to take him out into the woods, but he had never taken the time to practice his bow handling skills as of late, and he feared letting his brother down.

Aragorn pushed these misgivings aside with a smile and followed his brother out of the room. As they strolled down the corridor Aragorn found out that Elrohir would not be travelling with them today as he was busy helping Elrond pick herbs. The study of herb medicine had been taught to the twins from an early age, and still Elrond found new things to teach them even now.

Aragorn started inspecting the arrows in his quiver as they neared the main doors. They were still in good condition, but some of the fletchings on a few of the arrows would need stripping. Aragorn made a mental note to re-do the fletches the next time they stopped.

Elladan swung gracefully up onto his own horse, the movements finely honed through centuries of practice. Aragorn moved swiftly up onto his own horse, his movements not quite so smooth as that of his elven brother.

As a sweet smelling breeze brushed past the two brothers, they rode swiftly out of the Last Homely House. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Aragorn was filled with an indescribable feeling of joy and contentment. Although he truly loved his home, there was just something about riding in the wilds that called out to him.

Long seemed their trip, but at that moment, Aragorn would not have wished it hurry. The feeling of the wind catching his hair as it passed was soothing, and he suddenly longed to see the world.

This feeling was a little unsettling, and he did not want to turn away from his home, but he could not deny that his heart longed for adventure.

A frown settled over his features, and he inwardly sighed. He was not trained enough to last in the wild, and Aragorn knew it. Perhaps this was why Elladan always refused to let him travel very far. As it was, this was the first time that he had been taken to this part of Imladris' woods.

The sight of Elladan's horse slowing prompted Aragorn to do the same, and the two brothers stopped in a spacious clearing. It eased Aragorn's heart to see Elladan dismount from his steed and move to the packs. If there was an enemy around, he would have stayed on the horse and moved straight for his weapons.

Following Elladan's example, Aragorn stepped down from his own horse. He rubbed her nose in thanks, before moving to stand next to his brother.

"We shall stop here little brother. This is a fine place to start your training. There is no-one for you to accidentally hit here other than me."

Elladan was trying to stop his grin from getting too large, and Aragorn narrowed his eyes at the not-so-subtle reminder that the first time he had tried to use a bow and arrow, his aim was so off that he nearly ended up shooting Elrohir who was talking with another elf a few feet away.

With a grin and a wide sweep of his arms, Elladan indicated the trees around them, and silently bade Aragorn to take his shot. Aragorn complied, but not without a rolling of his eyes as he reached his hand back to pull out one of his arrows. His deft fingers sought out an arrow where the fletchings were not damaged, and he swiftly notched it. Pulling his arm back, he aimed for a tree a few yards from where they stood, shifting his stance slightly as the breeze picked up just enough to affect the flight of the arrow.

His fingers loosened just enough, and the arrow sailed through the air. A small sigh of disgust passed his lips. He did hit a tree alright, just two trees to the right of the one he wanted.

Elladan hid a smirk as he saw the tree his brother hit. Aragorn had improved alright, but his aim still needed a lot of work. He would need to be able to defend himself in case he was found by orcs.

A shadow fell into the elf's eyes, and he turned away so as not to alarm Aragorn. The orcs that killed his parents had all been slain, but recently scouts had found signs of another group. They had stuck to the outer reaches of Imladris' woods, and had yet to venture further inward.

No-one could figure out why the orcs would stick to the fringes, but no-one wished for the vile beasts to venture any further.

Still, the nagging thought that maybe the orcs had not yet left Rivendell's woods, and that they might choose to head further south worried at his mind. He cast a look at his younger brother who hadn't noticed his anxiety and was walking almost silently to retrieve the arrow he had fired. Shaking his head, he walked to where Aragorn had been standing moments before. The orcs had never been seen in these parts, and it was rare for them to be in here at all. With any luck, they would not spend another day in these forests.

Aragorn found the tree that his arrow had unwittingly hit. He had been with his brothers long enough now to notice when something was upsetting them, and something was definitely troubling Elladan. Aragorn had also learned not to press his brothers for information most of the time, because they would rarely tell you if pressed. Instead he focussed on getting his arrow, hoping that his brother would tell him what was on his mind later on.

As Aragorn walked back towards his brother, heavy footfalls caught his ears, and he noticed Elladan staring steely into the trees. Suddenly the footfalls were replaced with a sound that sounded barbaric to his ears. He turned to look at Elladan, looking in askance as to just what that was, but his words died out as he saw the pale complexion of his brother.

Aragorn walked swiftly up to his brothers side, and laid a gentle hand on his arm. Elladan was snapped out of his thoughts, and looked down to see his little brother looking up at him, concern written plainly in their silver depths.

Wasting no time, as he could hear the steps getting closer and closer, Elladan fixed his brother with a commanding stare. "Listen little one. You need to ride hard for Imladris, and you need to go now."

The sense of urgency in Elladan's voice was clear to Aragorn, and he felt himself start to become afraid. "What is out there?"

Elladan shook his head, and started to guide Aragorn to their horses. "I dare not tell you little brother, for they are something that you have never faced before. Go. Now!" Without another word he quickly picked Aragorn up and placed him on the horse. Aragorn's hands came out automatically to steady himself, but he didn't tear his gaze away from his brother as he moved to step down from the horse.

"I will not leave you. I would stay here and help." Elladan shook his head again and pressed him back down.

"You shall not, now please Aragorn. Go." his voice dropped to a hushed whisper, and his eyes pleaded with the young human. "If you are ever going to heed any of my words, then please heed these. It is not safe for you here."

Aragorn swallowed the lump in his throat and considered staying, but the look in his brothers eyes warned him away, and Aragorn whispered in his steed's ear for her to hurry.

With one last look at his elven brother, Aragorn darted through the trees. If this unknown enemy was enough to frighten his brother enough to send him away, then Elladan would need help.

Once Aragorn was gone through the trees, Elladan pulled out his bow and arrow, notching it faster than the eyes could follow. T'was not a moment too soon, for the orcs burst through the trees, their piercing wails casting Elladan's mind back to one of the last times he had heard that sound in these woods.

He did not doubt his skill in taking out the creatures, and several were taken out by his elven arrows as soon as they cleared the trees. His bow clattered to the ground as his hands slipped down to reach the elven daggers he kept at his waist. In his mind he prayed for Aragorn's safety as he took in the growing number of growling orcs that continued to pour through the trees.

This group was bigger than any that had been seen in Imladris for quite some time, and Elladan hoped that Aragorn had gotten to safety.

Aragorn rushed through the trees. Several times he found himself looking back, worry for his brother etched in the lines over his face. Already Aragorn was cursing his decision to leave, and he was hard pressed to keep to the promise he made, and make haste to Rivendell.

So long had they journeyed into the forest, that even at the speed he was travelling, he had yet to sight his home. Putting on an extra burst of speed he willed his horse to go faster. His brother was depending on him.

The rushing of air, and the crashing of leaves were all Aragorn heard before a crushing weight settled on him. He was forced off his horse, and felt all the air leave his lungs as he impacted sharply with the ground.

A voice growled into his ear, and he tensed. What was this foul thing on top of him? Deciding that this creature was probably what Elladan bade him stay away from, he grabbed the creatures arms and pushed it up just enough to slide out.

Once away, he took this time to look at his opponent.

And it was big.

Thick armour was visible over thick, corded muscles, and a weapon he had never seen before was in the creatures hand. It had an aura of darkness around it, and despite himself Aragorn felt himself shuddering. What seemed like a smirk twisted over the creatures lips, and fear unlike anything he had felt before settled into his heart.

His trembling hand came to rest on his daggers and he pulled one out in front of him. The sight of the elvish dagger seemed to almost amuse the creature, and it was hit out of Aragorn's shaking grip before he even knew what was happening.

Aragorn closed his eyes for a split second before opening them again. He kept trying to tell himself that he was in Rivendell, and this was just another lesson he was taking with his brothers. But none of the lessons ever included this. Despite that, the thought strengthened him somewhat, and if Elladan could fight these things, then he could as well.

The creature snarled at him again, before raising its weapon and walking towards him. Aragorn took a deep breath to steady his nerves and quickly pulled out his bow and arrow. With the way his hands were trembling, the creature obviously thought the arrow would go wide, and continued its path towards the shaking teen.

Aragorn fixed the point of the arrow on a point just above the creatures heart and willed his hands to stop trembling. Unfortunately, the shaking increased as the being got closer, and Aragorn's heartbeat sounded un-naturally loud in his ears.

As the creature got within a few feet of him, Aragorn's hands suddenly stopped trembling, and his fingers loosened. The arrow sailed straight through the air and impacted with the creatures upper chest.

The look of shock on the creatures face was quickly masked by anger as the arrow was grasped and pulled out without nary a flinch of pain. Aragorn felt his grip on the bow loosen as the creature started advancing towards him again. A cry of pain spilled past his lips as the tip of the creatures weapon slide into his shoulder. His fingers slipped from the elvish bow, and a growl echoed in his ear before he felt a blunt pain centered around his head.

He dimly wondered what Elladan would say if he found him like this, before blissful darkness over came him.

Muffled voices started to breach his awareness and he tried to pin-point where they were coming from.

Something cold and wet was placed onto his forehead and Aragorn tried harder to open his eyes.

Flickering firelight caught his eyes as they slipped open, and the figure of a man was bent over next to him.

Fear gripped him and he tried to pull away. The movement caught the attention of the man kneeling next to him, and he placed his hands on Aragorn's shoulder, speaking in a language that Aragorn had never heard before.

"I wouldn't move if I were you, the wound to your shoulder is not grievous, but will pain you for a while."

Incomprehension must have been clear in Aragorn's eyes, for the man sighed and turned away, speaking in the same tongue to one of the other people around the camp.

"He does not understand. I do not understand. This child is obviously of the race of men, yet he does not speak our tongue."

"What tongue does he speak then? perhaps one of us knows it."

Aragorn looked at the people around him more closely. They didn't look like elves, and certainly didn't speak the elvish tongue. There was always the chance that one of them did. Aragorn willed tears not to come to his eyes. Oh how he wished to be at home.

"What are you going to do to me?"

The men looked over at his words, and it swiftly became clear than none of them had understood a word of what he had said.

"I understood naught of that, do any of you speak his language?"

The man who was tending to him earlier looked back at Aragorn and said: "I think that was the elvish tongue. I speak very little of it myself, but I have heard some from the other rangers that speak it."

"Tis a pity there is not one with us now." a man at the back muttered.

"Maybe he knows a little of our tongue." one of the men to his right ventured.

The man walked slowly over to Aragorn, making sure to keep in his line of sight at all times.

"What is your name young one?"

"Who are you? I do not understand you." Aragorn replied in the grey tongue, his eyes seeking out ways to quickly escape from this camp. Injured or no, Aragorn had no wish to stay here any longer than he had too. He just had to wait.

Aragorn saw the man in front of him sigh and raise his hand to his chest. "Tycyn." With that word uttered, the man held his hand out to Aragorn. For a while Aragorn stared at the hand, not sure what the man wanted him to do.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name young one?"

There was that strange tongue again.

After a while of thinking it dawned on Aragorn that perhaps this man wanted his name. He wracked his brain frantically trying to think up a name for himself. He didn't know if these people were to be trusted, so he was not going to give them his true name.

"Nether."

Young one?

Aragorn mentally winced. Why in Valar's name did he choose 'young one' as his name. T'was too late to take it back now, so when the man looked at him questioningly Aragorn held his hand to his chest as Tycyn had done before. "Nether."

Elladan was either going to pitch a fit, or die laughing if he got back. No, he reminded himself firmly, not if, when.

"Well Nether, t'would be wise to find you somewhere safe to go."

"We are in Rivendell at the moment, should we head to the elven refuge there?"

"T'would be a good idea. Nether obviously speaks their language, with any luck, they will be able to help him."

Elrohir bent down to the floor as one of the healing herbs he had spent so long picking fell out of his grip. Elladan had told him that he had been planning to take Aragorn down to the woods to train him some more. Elrohir couldn't help but feel worry at this, and wished that he had not promised to help his father with herb collecting today.

Speaking of his father. Elrohir straightened, and started to make his way through the doors of the Last Homely House. Ill tidings had been pushing at his mind, and Elrohir feared what they meant. The elven twin did not have the gift of foresight as his father did, and dearly wished to know what made him feel so uneasy.

Elrohir smiled as his father met him by the doors. Both had been working long after Elladan and Aragorn left to replenish the stock of healing herbs that Elrond often had to use now that Aragorn was taking on more than perhaps he aught.

Something made Lord Elrond's gaze turn to the gates, and Elrohir felt his heart clench in fear as he followed his fathers gaze.

A lone brown coloured horse was trotting lightly through the gates, a nasty gash apparent on her leg.

As the two elves neared the wounded horse, they saw signs of a struggle. The saddle was laying to the left, as if something had jerked it strongly from the right, and a small piece of fabric was caught on the saddle. With a sinking heart, Elrond recognised it to be Aragorn's.

An anguished look was shared between father and son, as both wondered what trouble had befallen the youngest of their house.

And of Elladan who was with him.

Not until the last of the orcs had fallen did Elladan allow himself to rest. Orcish blood was dripping from his blade, and he felt the exertion of his actions.

There was no sign of any more orcs, and for that Elladan was thankful. The few remaining intact arrows were salvaged and Elladan set off for Rivendell, his heart anxious to see how his brother fared.

As his walking lead the weary elf past a small cluster of trees something caught his attention in the undergrowth. What he found there made his skin go pale, and his heart beat faster.

In his hands lay a small elven dagger.

Eyes clenched shut as sweaty hands gripped the ornate handle.

No... it couldn't be. They couldn't have Aragorn... could they.

With a desperate sigh, Elladan forced himself to his feet. If the orcs did have Aragorn, then they would have to find him and soon. Before they discovered who he was.

"Hold on Aragorn. Just hold on..."

Aragorn was swiftly finding that his wounds did not pain him so much. Despite the lack of progress in understanding each other, they had been able to grasp that Aragorn was not going to be kept down, and so was allowed to walk around.

Taking advantage of his new found freedom, Aragorn began to have a look at where he was.

This part of the woods were unfamiliar to him, and he dearly hoped that he was still in Imladris, and had not been taken somewhere else by these men.

The people that had taken care of him were sitting around a fire. Aragorn didn't think it wise to light a fire when those things could still be out there, but it was not his place to question them.

Conversation was spoken quietly in their language, and not for the first time, Aragorn started to wonder what they were saying. Aragorn had been taught as a child that actions spoke louder than words, and he felt that these people; whoever they were, could be trusted.

After all, if they had any ill-intent towards him, he would have been dead by now.

Aragorn shuddered and looked out into the woods. If this was what it was like in the wilds, then he was not sure if he wanted to step outside of Imladris' borders.

Many heads turned as bushes a few yards away trembled. A blot of fear settled in Aragorn's heart. With no breeze blowing then something larger must be moving those leaves.

Aragorn's worst fears were confirmed when the first large figure broke through the trees.

It didn't take long for the men to snap into action. Swords and bows were drawn and notched, each face tense with the prospect of battle. Cries of pain and rousing words were shouted across the clearing, as the two sides met.

Aragorn crouched down as low as he could, and melted into the bushes.

After being bested so quickly the last time, he didn't really want to fight them again.

"Come on men! Let's drive these orcs back to where they crawled out from!"

Aragorn looked up as something was shouted out. Grim expressions were focussed on the enemy as swords met scimitars, and blood stained the ground. As Aragorn watched, the men were cut down. Desperation descended over him as he saw that these people were not going to come out of this fight alive.

Closing his eyes, he wondered what to do.

These people were unknown to him, but they had treated him kindly. A kindness he had never been shown from any outside of his family before.

Opening his eyes, he made his decision.

Hands gripped his hunting knife, and silver eyes scanned for the best shot.

He would not have long before he was discovered, and Aragorn intended to do as much damage before that occurred. As he raised the knife something caught his attention.

To his right was a bow and nearly-full quiver. Clearly it belonged to the dead person lying next to it, and Aragorn felt a pang of regret as he pulled the quiver off his back. A prayer to Iluvitar was quietly spoken before he darted back behind the bush again.

With an unwavering hand, the tip of the arrow was sighted on the closest orc. Aragorn took a deep breath to calm himself, and prayed that the arrow would fly straight and true.

A cry of pain and a dull thump were all the signs that Aragorn needed that his arrow had hit the mark.

The other creatures were momentarily distracted as they sought to discover who had cut down their comrade so efficiently.

This was all the time that the men needed, and the tide began to turn.

Aragorn crept out of his hiding place, and offered aid to the person nearest to him. Startled thanks were shown in the mans gaze, as his death was averted by a dagger in the neck of his opponent. Aragorn nodded once in acceptance of the silent thanks, and ran to stab his dagger into the vulnerable flesh of the creatures thigh. The only part of the beast that seemed not to be covered in metal armour.

Blood stained air moved sluggishly through the camp, and Aragorn dropped to the ground. His heart and body were weary, and he longed more than ever to be at home.

And to think. Not that long ago, he had longed for adventure.

Aragorn jerked as cheers ran out through the camp. The remaining men were celebrating it seems. This did not last long, as the full extent of the damage done became apparent.

Silence fell thick and heavy as heads were bowed and words of grief spoken. Even Aragorn, who could not understand their words, could read the grief in their stances, and the sadness in their souls. Clearly these men were close.

No words were exchanged as the dead were gathered and placed in the bushes. While this was not a fitting end for these men, it would have to suffice until a hole large enough could be built. The men banded together and got to work.

As time passed, the hole was dug, and the dead gently lowered into the earth. A moment of silence followed. Not a single sound broke the air, for it seems that even the animals of the woods knew that something dark had befallen this day.

A hand fell onto Aragorn's shoulder and Aragorn looked up into weary brown eyes. Grief, anguish and concern were there, and Aragorn felt that he was being asked if he was alright.

Aragorn nodded and let himself be helped up. Many of the men were wounded, and Aragorn's healing side went out to these men. Ignoring the questioning look from Tycyn Aragorn limped over to his pack. There were few healing herbs here, but they would be enough. Taking them all out, he moved over to the fire. A young man was lying there, a bleeding wound to his side appeared to be his only injuries.

The man tensed as Aragorn moved towards him. Aragorn held out his hands, showing the man the herbs he held.

"It's alright. These are healing herbs. I will not harm you." Aragorn knew that the man could not understand him, but he was hoping that his sincere desire to help these people was showing in his gaze.

"Don't worry Moddyn, Nether will not harm you. Besides, those are healing herbs he is holding."

Moddyn nodded reluctantly, and Aragorn hoped that was ascent that he could continue. The healer in him was not going to let these people die, not after they helped him.

Steeling his jaw against the flickers of pain that lanced up his ankle, Aragorn got to work. Many of the peoples' injuries were bad, and he worried that the creatures would return.

"Elladan!"

Elrohir was searching briskly through the woods. As soon as Aragorn's horse had come home riderless, Elrohir headed out into the woods, with the promise that he would find his brothers.

Elrohir dared not call out for Aragorn, as he knew not who was walking these woods. He would not put his brother in danger by alerting the enemy to the heir of Isildur's presence in Imladris.

Hoping that Aragorn was with Elladan and had not gotten hurt, he called out again. With a smooth jump Elrohir slipped into the lower branches of the trees. He had heard footsteps, and these were too light to be an elfs.

A lone man stumbled out of the bushes. This man was injured slightly, and favouring his left leg. What got him more was that this man was a ranger. There had been little to no sightings of rangers in these woods since Arathorn and Gilraen were so ruthlessly slain.

Another man followed him, this one did not appear to be hurt as much. A frown settled over Elrohir's face as the scent of a particular healing herb caught his attention. This herb was usually only used by elves, and although the rangers had herb knowledge, it would have been rare for them to know where to find this one.

Elrohir slipped up into the higher branches as they neared his position. His elven hearing still picked up their conversation even at this distance.

"You should not have come Oweodry. Your leg obviously pains you, and I would not see you injured any further."

"I don't see you complaining about you injured shoulder Tycyn." Oweodry muttered as they walked next to the tree.

"My shoulder was tended to by Nether. I must admit, that boy has impressive healing skills for one so young."

This caught Elrohir's attention. Nether wasn't even a name, elvish yes, but not an elven name.

Why would a human boy have an elvish name? And 'young one' on top of that.

Elrohir nearly lost his grip on the tree as the thought that they could be talking about Aragorn entered his mind. Aragorn was smart enough to know not to give his name out to strangers, as he had been taught for many years.

If this was Aragorn, then Elrohir could see why a human boy would have an elvish name.

Although, Elrohir's lips twitched with the comings of a smile, why Aragorn chose young one was something he intended to find out. And tease his brother about when they got him home. And tell Elladan so he could as well.

The men were now crouched down in front of a patch of herbs a few feet away. Elrohir crept down from the tree on silent feet and moved slowly up to the men.

"I wouldn't move if I were you."

Both men froze, and the one called Tycyn risked a glance over his shoulder.

"We mean you no harm." Elrohir's bow was drawn, and it was clear that he could take them both down before they could even scream.

"Turn around." Elrohir commanded.

Once they had complied with his request, Elrohir lowered his bow. Relief shone in their gaze, but they were also confused. "I heard you talking about a child called Nether. Where is he?"

"He... he is back in our camp Master Elf. The child ran out of healing herbs, and so we went out to get some more."

"You were caught in a battle?" Elrohir's eyes narrowed at the thought that Aragorn had been in a battle. If anything had happened to him, he would kill whoever was responsible.

"Aye we were sir." Tycyn said, stepping forward, purposely shielding Oweodry from Elrohir's view.

Any further words were cut off as Elrohir heard a quiet sound on the wind. Soft footfalls were treading through the foliage, and Elrohir held up his hand for silence. Elrohir moved silently over to the bushes and waited. Suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed something. A choked cry was heard and the two men exchanged a glance as an elf was pulled from the bushes. Another one?

"Oh for the love of Valar Elladan, what were you doing sneaking through the woods like that!" Elrohir let go of his brothers arm, and checked him over for injuries. Aside from the dishevelled appearance, Elladan looked fine.

"I was looking for..." Elladan broke off as he noticed the men standing near, who were trying to look as unobtrusive as possible.

"You were looking for _Nether_." Elrohir finished, stressing the name slightly. "These men know where he is."

A confused look followed the statement. "Neth-" realisation dawned on Elladan and he choked back a chuckle. So Aragorn had given another name to these men. But, out of all the names he could have chosen, why did it have to be that one?

"He gave them that name. They say that he is over in their camp. There were orcs." Elrohir spoke in elvish, hiding their conversation from the men.

Elladan's eyes widened before narrowing, and his hand gripped the dagger in his hand tightly. With a jolt, Elrohir recognised it to be Aragorn's. Elladan nodded as he followed his brothers gaze. A look of anguish came over Elrohir's features as Elladan handed him the small dagger.

Oh Aragorn...

"The young one was not harmed that we could see. The only concern being the fever and slight concussion. The fever we were able to break, but if not looked after it could come back. Please sir, we only wish to get more herbs to help our wounded. We meant nothing against your race by coming into these fair woods."

Both elves looked over as Tycyn quietly started speaking. Both men looked slightly nervous. This was obviously their first dealings with the first born.

"No offence has been taken to your presence." Elrohir assured. "Our concern lies now with Nether. Could you please take us to him. We also have healing skills, we could help you with your wounded." Elrohir added as Oweodry looked sceptical.

After a few moments, Tycyn nodded. These elves appeared trustworthy.

Indicating to a path back the way they had came, the men started walking. Elladan and Elrohir followed behind, each wondering how their little brother had fared.

Aragorn looked up from where he was tending to another injured man. His supply of herbs had long since been depleted, and he was now bathing the infected wounds with water. Little there was around, but luck had been with Aragorn when he found a small river a few yards from the camp.

His eyes lit up on joy, and he unsteadily rose to his feet as he recognised who was walking behind Tycyn and Oweodry.

Two sets of elven arms wrapped around him, and Aragorn allowed himself to collapse into their arms.

"Oh Elladan. I did not know how you fared. I was worried." Aragorn pulled back and stared at his brother with watery eyes. "I was so afraid when I had to leave you with those things."

"Worry not Nether. I dispatched with them easily enough." Elladan stared hard into his brothers eyes. "I am more concerned with how you fared. I heard you look on some orcs."

"Orcs? What are orcs?"

"Father will explain that to you when we get home Nether. But for now, we must help these people, and see to your own injuries." said Elrohir, rising from his spot and taking a look at the rangers around them. Judging by the blank looks on their faces, none of these rangers spoke elvish. Lovely.

Pulling out his pack from his back, Elladan divided the herbs amongst himself, Elrohir and Aragorn. The three brothers got to work on the last injured rangers, and soon Elrohir was forcing Aragorn to have his wounds seen to.

His ankle had been twisted in his fall from the horse, and a jagged cut decorated his brow. A mild heat radiated off the young human, and Elrohir feared that the young ones fever was returning.

"We need to get him back to Rivendell."

Elladan nodded in agreement, and took Aragorn from Elrohir's arms. Aragorn knew better than to try and convince his brothers he was fine. Both were incredibly stubborn, and would not rest until he was safe at home in Imladris.

Aragorn settled back into Elladan's arms and listened as he spoke to the men in their own tongue. Aragorn wondered just how much he had yet to learn. Once home he would ask Elrond to teach him this language. He never wanted to not be able to speak to someone again.

The men nodded, and Elladan sent his horse into a light trot. Elrohir had disappeared moments before to seek out his own horse which was tethered to a tree a little ways aways.

Soon Elrohir joined his brothers on their journey back to Imladris. Both grateful that Aragorn had been found, and both thankful that he had not been seriously injured.

For none of them wanted to be the one that told Elrond that his youngest had fallen.

Elrond was waiting anxiously by the gate. Worry for his sons was edging his steps, and hands clenched the long fabric of his clothes.

Deep in his heart he feared for the safety of his sons, and seemed to be doing that more and more lately as his youngest became eager to see the world.

Elrond knew that he could not stop Aragorn from leaving Imladris, but he longed to protect him from danger. Danger which he would have to face, as it was part of his destiny. Elrond sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. The gift of foresight was often something the half-elven lord loathed having, and he hated more than anything that he knew Aragorn would be put to the test one day. That he would have to shoulder the burden of all.

Relief washed over him as Elrond heard the light footfalls of an elven horse on the courtyard floor. His sons looked weary, but were alive. He was concerned about the bandage on his youngest head, but didn't think any more about it as he moved towards the horse and embraced his sons.

Arms crept over his shoulders, waist and back as they hugged, and Elrond was eternally grateful that none of them had been seriously hurt.

Elladan was the first to pull away, and rested his hands on Aragorn's shoulder. "Father. One of the men that Aragorn was with said that he had a fever. I fear it is coming back."

Elrond frowned and placed his hand on Aragorn's forehead. It did feel a little too warm for his liking. Elrond smiled gently down at his son, and started to lead Aragorn into the house.

"Elladan is right. You do have a slight fever my son. It is nothing to worry about, but I would see you in bed."

Aragorn started to protest, but they died when he yawned. He heard the muffled chuckles of his brothers as he blushed, and let his father press him through the doors. The battle with the orcs, and the worry for his brother had worn him out, and he did feel the need for rest.

Aragorn yawned again as he walked through the door to his room. Gentle hands helped him up on the bed, and he sank gratefully into the soft pillows.

"Do not go to sleep just yet Aragorn. I need to check your injuries first."

A soft voice drew him from the haze of sleep that he had slipped into, and he opened his eyes. Elrond was sitting on the edge of his bed, his soft hands drawing gently at the bandage on his head. Aragorn hissed quietly through his teeth as the material caught on some drying blood.

"What happened out there my son?"

Aragorn winced and tried to answer his father. Focussing on his fathers voice seemed to lessen the pain.

"I was training with Elladan. Suddenly he told me to head for Imladris. I didn't know why but whatever was coming had him worried. I headed here as fast as I could, and was knocked off my horse by something heavy. The creature was huge, and carried a weapon I had never seen before." Elrond's eyes darkened, and Aragorn didn't notice as his gaze was locked on his hands that gripped the comforter tightly. "I tried to fight it off, but I hit my head and fell unconscious. The next thing I knew I was in another camp, with a load of people that I didn't know. They spoke in a strange language. They tended to my wounds, and allowed me to walk around. Soon the camp was set upon by those creatures, and I helped fight them off. The people there killed more of them than I did father, and I helped heal their wounded after. It wasn't long before Elladan and Elrohir walked into the camp, although I know not how they got there. They too spoke that strange language. What was it father?" Aragorn asked as the bandage was re-wound around his head.

"That my son, was Westron. The language of the humans of Middle Earth." Elrond looked Aragorn straight in the eyes. "Your language."

Aragorn frowned and tugged at the bandage slightly. "Why haven't I been taught this language then father?"

"Do you wish to be taught this language Aragorn?"

"Yes. I never want to not be able to talk with someone. It was most unnerving when they could not understand me."

"That settles it. As soon as you are better, I will teach you the language of your people." Elrond rose to move out of the room, but Aragorn's small voice stopped him.

"Who were they father?"

"Those Aragorn, were Rangers. Humans who live in the wild, giving aid to those who need it." said Elrond, taking a seat in a chair just off from Aragorn's bed.

"I felt as though I knew them father. Like they were familiar to me somehow."

Elrond sighed, and turned his head to the window. He wasn't sure if Aragorn was ready to hear about his past, and just why he felt a certain kinship with the rangers. The rangers that travelled with Gilraen and Arathorn had adored Aragorn, and were very close with the child.

"You have a great destiny ahead of you. One that I will not go into now, but you should know only this. Many will come to depend on you, and will place all their hope, and faith in you. Don't worry about it now Aragorn," Elrond said as Aragorn paled slightly. "I have every faith in you, and I know you will face whatever challenges come your way. And you will triumph."

Aragorn looked a little disturbed at this news, but nodded. If his father had faith in him that he could do it, then he would.

"If you say I will father, then I will defeat all that I face. If I must shoulder the hopes of these people, then I will. Nothing will defeat me while I have those I care about by my side." Elrond felt a rush of pride and despair run through him at Aragorn's words.

"You are so brave for one so young. You are filled with such hope, such strength one rarely sees in people." Elrond rose from the chair and moved to stare out of the window. "Estel..." he murmured.

Aragorn picked up the elvish word. He cocked his head in question, and waited for his father to speak. "These are dark times my son. News of evil brewing on the horizon has been heard. Things are moving, and I fear where they will end. It may very well be people like you who shape the future of all." the last Elrond muttered to himself, but Aragorn caught little bits of what he said.

"Then I will face them father. And we will succeed." Aragorn murmured sleepily, his eyes closing slowly. Elrond smiled thinly and brushed the hair out of his sons face.

"Oh Estel..."

Elladan was walking up to Aragorn's room when Elrond walked quietly out of the door. Elladan followed him when Elrond indicated he should come with him.

"How is he father?"

"He is fine. His fever has broken, and he sleeps peacefully now."

Elladan nodded, and looked down the corridor. "That's good. I was worried about him for a moment."

"He asked me about the people who saved him today."

"What did you tell him?" Elladan turned to look at his father.

"I told him that they were rangers, and that they would have some part to play in his future."

"Are you sure that was wise?"

"I would not wish to worry my son unduly, but I sensed that he took what I told him well. He believes that he can take on anything if he has those he loves around him." Elrond shook his head and smiled ruely. "There is such hope in that boy."

"Is that his new name then?"

Elladan knew his father well. Aragorn needed a new name, the enemy should not know of his existence. He knew that his father was seriously considering giving the name Estel to Aragorn.

"This boy will be the hope of all one day Elladan. Until I deem that he is ready for the full news of his ancestry, he will be known to us as Estel. There is no more fitting a name for him than that."

Elladan nodded, and turned his gaze away from his father. Things seemed to be happening so fast, and Aragorn was now Estel.

Estel. Hope.

Elrond was right. There was no better name for the boy.

****

The end.

Authors notes:

Preview for the next story.

Wandering

Aragorn is now reaching his 21st year. Many skills he has learnt, and some of the patience of the elves has finally sunk into the young human.

His skills are put to the test when Aragorn steps out of Rivendell on his own for the first time. Much has he learnt about the rangers that saved his life, and Aragorn finds himself wishing to experience their life.

Aragorn's travels take him over Caradhras and he heads south towards Lothlorien. On the way he meets the dwarves and is caught in a battle between the orcs and the dwarves.

Shortly after he finds himself in Mirkwood, home of the woodland elves. Will a man who grew up in Imladris be able to strike a friendship with their woodland kin?


End file.
